A slightly darker SpiderMan story
by T.C. Powers
Summary: Peter Parker has stopped playing SpiderMan and is focusing on being Peter Parker, but he can't help becoming involved. Lately, he's be having trouble sleeping...he has nightmares. Could the nightmares mean something?
1. A great start

Peter sat at the edge of his bed in his studio apartment with his head in his hands. He sighed heavily, slowly stood up, and made his way out of his room towards the kitchen. A bruised, slightly broken, and extremely exhausted-mentally and physically-Peter Parker opened his refrigerator door.

"Of course there's no food in here…why would there be? All my money goes to pay rent for this place. And to make that money, I have to have a job; to have a job, I have to take pictures or go back to working temp jobs. That's not gonna happen." Peter shook his head as he closed the door. "Looks like I'm going back to J.J."

On his way back to his bedroom, Peter was careful to not bump his shoulder against anything or turn too quickly. Any further irritation of his injuries would most defiantly require a hospital visit; and that was the last thing he needed. While peering into his closet Peter really considered putting his costume on before his street clothes, but he gave up doing that a while ago. Instead, he just put on a pair of jeans, a clean white t-shirt, and a white, yellow, blue patterned oxford. _Thank God for places like the Salvation Army and Goodwill, _he thought._ If it weren't for them I'd have to make my own clothes._ He examined himself in the mirror to make sure the tape wrapped around his torso was not incredibly obvious. Confident it wasn't, Peter grabbed his keys, slipped his brown leather sandals on, and walked out the door, locking it behind him. He began counting softly under his breath.

"Parker…don't tell me, you're going out to find a job. No, no, no…you've got an interview, right? C'mon Pete, when I said I'd help ya' as much as I can I didn't mean I'd forego your rent. I know you've been goin' through a rough job spell, but you gotta get yourself together." This was Peter's landlord, Alec Crawford, a man he let down about as many times as a north side Chicago baseball team had let their fans down.

Peter sighed and turned to look at face that was full of disappointment. _Got up to twenty this time…Mr. Crawford must be slipping. That or he dreads this as much as I do. _"Actually, yes, I was going to the Bugle in hopes of getting my photography job back." Peter hardly recognized his own voice. Had his attitude affected his voice as well? "When they let me go, the company was having problems with some of the staff and somehow my name slipped in. I planned on talking to Mr. Jameson and asking him if he would re-hire me." _Yeah, that sounded like a load of bullshit._

Mr. Crawford shook his head. "Alright Peter, you come back with a job today and I'll forget about the month and a half worth of rent you owe me. But you have to come back with a _job_, not just a slip of paper with an interview time on it. You understand me Parker?"

"Yes Mr. Crawford, I understand." _This is gonna be about as easy as me trying to take on the Sinister Six without my spider sense. _"I won't come back until I find a job."


	2. A new assignment

As Peter stepped out of the building, he saw a black bird sitting on a wire. _Oh yeah, **that's** a _great_ omen. _He rubbed his eyes and made his way downtown, a brisk five minute travel for those who could swing from building to building, but since Peter ditched his alter-ego, it was either a forty-five minute walk or pay for two buses and still have to walk five blocks to get there. _I need the exercise anyway. Maybe it'll clear up my head too._ He hadn't been sleeping much-or well-lately and Peter couldn't figure out exactly why. He had lost his job a month ago-which was nothing especially traumatizing; no one had died, and there wasn't any new drama caused by the female persuasion. Yet, for the past week when he had gotten to sleep, it was filled with nightmares. Visions full of cars and buildings burning, the sound of women sobbing over lost children and other loved ones. Men were fighting their wars and Peter saw himself in the middle of a platoon of soldiers, they were running towards him; towards an enemy he could not yet see.

He stood in front of the familiar building; his head craned slightly to see the bird's nest that was still in the big 'D'.

"At least **some** things never change," Peter sighed in relief as he walked through the door and took the elevator up to the main office floor. When he walked through the glass doors of the office, the first one to welcome him back was Robbie Robertson. _Good ol' Robbie_Peter thought. _Always put everyone in front of himself._

"Hey Peter!" Robbie took Peter's right hand into a firm handshake that developed into a hug. The hug reminded Peter that his ribs were still attached and still bruised. "It's good to have you back, man. Where've you been, haven't heard from you in a long time."

Peter shrugged once. "Oh, I've been around…just not as much as I used to be."

"I can tell. You don't look so hot Pete, you feel sick or something?"

"Or something." Robbie had been one of the people from work that had actually cared about his well-being. Peter was about to tell Robbie about his inability to sleep and the nightmares when he was summoned.

"PARKER! GET IN HERE!" J.J. wasn't really mad, that was just how he spoke. Peter walked into J.J.'s office and waited there for some lecture about not showing up to work or how when he was Peter's age he was married **and** working. What he got, instead, was something totally different. "Parker, it's good to have you back. I even have an assignment lined up for you." Peter had to do a double-take. _Am I on Punk'd? Okay Ashton, you got me, come on out and let J.J. go back to normal._ "Well? Aren't you going to ask what is? Or how about a 'Thank you Mr. Jameson'?" _Okay, _that _sounds more like J.J._

"Thank you Mr. Jameson. What is it?"

"I knew you were going to ask that Parker, that's why I had Betty type up this report for you to read on the plane."

"Uhm, I'm not sure I understand Mr. Jameson." _A plane? Excuse me?_

"What's there to understand Parker? It's all in the report. Go home and pack. Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. If you need a ride, call Robbie."


	3. A possible new flame?

"Th-thank you Mr. Jameson. If I might ask, am I going to be teamed up with someone from the Bugle staff or one of the locals? And, um, how much is this job paying?" It had been a while since Peter received a check and he hoped it was going to help ease Mr. Crawford's mind about Peter's employment status.

"We can discuss that when you get back and I see the pictures." A typical response, Peter shouldn't have even asked.

He nodded another 'thank-you' to Mr. Jameson and turned to walk out of the room. Before he left Peter looked at the flight itinerary and asked Robbie to pick him up around ten o' clock so they would have time to get through the traffic and Peter could get through security.

The walk home was much brighter for Peter Parker; he had forgotten all about the crappy start to his morning and the black bird sitting on the wire. He was so happy that Peter actually used his credit card for the first time in months and treated himself to dinner. He didn't go anywhere special, just a corner diner that sat three blocks from his apartment.

"Hey theah sugah," the waitress looked close to Peter's age, maybe a couple years older, "mah name is Lily an' Ah'll be ya' waitress this afta'noon." The small white and orange checkered blouse and skirt combo hugged her features nicely, Peter noticed but wasn't sure if he felt adventurous enough to ask a random girl out. Lily took the notepad from her apron pocket and took out a pen. "Can Ah start y'all off with somethin' to drink?" Her lips looked naturally pouty, unlike most of the Hollywood stars that had to get collagen implants to imitate this look. The blouse made her breasts appear full and perky; Peter was almost certain that she didn't need help in that area. As his eyes made their way up her body and making all these observations, Peter finally met her gaze.

Lily stood five feet and three inches tall, her dark blonde hair would've come down to her shoulders--had it not been pulled back in a ponytail--and made her light blue eyes stand out. Her face had soft features, looked like she wore little to no make-up, and a cherubic look to it.

Peter couldn't think for a moment, honestly taken back by her looks.

"Um…," nothing came to mind. Plenty came to mind, but nothing could be turned into an oral interpretation.

Lily smiled at him, her cheeks flushed a little. "Ah'm sorry hun, but we're all out of 'um'." She gave him a little wink before suggesting water for starters and telling him about the soup of the day, Cream of Cheese and Potato. When she returned, Peter's ability to speak had come back as well. "Wheneva' you ah ready dahlin'." He ordered the soup along with the steak and eggs breakfast with a side of hash browns. "Awright, Ah'll put that ordah' in an' it should be out shortly." She winked again before leaving to put in his order.

He smiled a bit as she left, watching her hips sway as she walked to the kitchen. Peter's day was making quite the turn around from bruised ribs and the threat of having no place to live to a new assignment and a pretty waitress. _Maybe I will ask her out. There's no harm in that, right?_ The smile came back to his face as he thought this and Lily returned with his soup.

"Heah ya go sugah, need some more watah?" She flashed that smile that made Peter smile and blush, but he just shook his head.


End file.
